We will always remember it as the spring when it rained without end in New
York, while in London, the sun shone brightly day after day. And we were
at the Ritz.

Is there a place that compares to the London Ritz? The arcaded
lane bordering Piccadilly; the mansard roof with its multiple chimneys;
the Grand Gallery spanning the ground floor from the glass-domed rotunda
at one end to the restaurant overlooking Green Park at the other; the
succession of Roman arches and glittering chandeliers down the length of
it; the stairway with its magnificent iron balustrade swirling up from
the vestibule and the fountained Palm Court eternally set for tea along
one side; the stunning Rivoli Bar and the Marie Antoinette room – a
replica of the one in Versailles -- along the other; the peaches and
cream of it, the marble and gilt of it, the sparkle and dazzle of it
endlessly repeated in mirrors lining diagonal-shaped walls.

“The Ritz is a grand building, but it’s really quite small,
only 133 rooms,” says Deputy Chairman Giles Shepard. “The hotel
doesn’t intimidate you because the style of decoration is and the size
of the rooms are domestic. It’s all done by conjuring, it’s all done
by mirrors. You think you’re looking into space, but you’re actually
looking back at yourself.” He’s out of central casting – the English gentleman who looks
like a lord and sounds like Rex Harrison playing Professor Henry Higgins
to the very inflection of his exquisitely articulated speech.

“There are four things that make up a hotel,” he explains as
we take our first walk down the Grand Gallery, “the building, the
clients who use it, the staff, the decorations, and the flowers. I was
sick to death about flowers the other day. So I decided to have four
different florists try out their arrangements.”

Deputy
Chairman Giles Shepard

The first florist’s attempt, an enormous bright bouquet in the
vestibule has disappointed him. “I don’t like the tall gladioli
sticking out, pointing at you. Although I quite enjoy the flashy
colors,” he says.

Like its namesakes in Paris,
Madrid, Barcelona, Boston, Montreal, and New York, the London Ritz
was one of the turn-of-the-last-century luxury establishments
associated with the legendary hotelier César Ritz. Its original look
is retained to such specifics of architectural detail, light
fixtures, statues, art work, and Louis XVI-style furnishings we
were beginning to feel transported back to the Edwardian era.

And then we heard the strains of “I’ll See You Again” from
a piano somewhere down the hall, and from that moment on, the Ritz for
us became inexorably linked to Noel Coward and the England of the 1920s.

It was Ian Gomes at the grand piano facing the Palm Court
providing background music for afternoon tea. An English classic may
have been the siren call that lured us to his side, but the
Calcutta-born pianist favors American songs by such as the Gershwins,
Rodgers and Hart, Cole Porter, Harold Arlen, and Irving Berlin whose "Puttin’
on the Ritz," we concluded, had to have been inspired by the London
Ritz.

Resident
Pianist Ian Gomes

Ian, who had been Frank Sinatra’s pianist whenever the singer
was in London, has a limitless repertoire. We try to stump him to no
avail. There isn’t an American standard he does not know. And he plays
them in lush, arpeggio-filled arrangements, flowing from “Stardust”
to “Laura” to “Autumn Leaves,” stopping every now and then for a
rollicking “Happy Birthday to You” as tea time at the Ritz proceeds
down its leisurely path through the hours of the afternoon.

A few feet away, at a small table apart from the others, a
distinguished looking gent and lovely blonde lady are drinking
champagne. “They are here every week without fail,” Ian tells us.
“They always sit at that same table. The man will hand me a list of
songs, and as I play them, it’s as I’m performing for those two
alone.”

But up three steps, the Palm Court –a deep golden stage
enhanced by mirrored walls, Grecian pillars, a pair of hanging lamps
that look like birdcages entwined with gilded flowers and vines, and a
roof of glazed glass -- is filled to capacity with a lively crowd.
Tables are set with silver tea services, Limoges china, and the
inimitable three-tiered trolley with its assortment of miniature
pastries, finger sandwiches on crust-less bread and the de rigueur scones to be slathered with clotted Cornish cream and
strawberry jam.

The Palm Court

The
Palm Court during Tea Time

“People have enormous fun here,” Giles Shepard says as Ian
breaks into another “Happy Birthday to You” and a waiter in formal
attire brings out a candle-lit tea cake. “They come here to enjoy
celebrations, to entertain. It has been like this for nearly a hundred
years.”

Through the decades, regulars at the Palm Court tea have
included King Edward VII, Charlie Chaplin, Sir Winston Churchill,
General de Gaulle, Noel Coward, Judy Garland, Evelyn Waugh, and the late
and very much beloved Queen Mother.

“At one occasion about five years ago, the Queen Mother was
here, and as I gave her my arm to help her up, she said to me, ‘Giles,
these steps are very difficult.’

“I said, ‘Well Ma’am, what should we do?’

“’I would love a hand rail.’

“So we had these made. And they match, you see, with the
balustrade on the spiral stairway. She was thrilled. She was born before
the hotel was born and a regular here, always sitting in the right
corner. She very much enjoyed walking down this corridor.”

As did we -- to its end at the entrance to the Restaurant (at the
Ritz, the generic term suffices), a rococo fantasy of rose and gold
which a well-traveled friend had told us was one of the most beautiful
rooms in Europe. From a ceiling painted to look like a dreamy summer sky
hang a ring of gilded chandeliers linked by an equally gilded garland of
flowered vines. There are ornamented marble panels and niches with
classical statues, a pair of creamy marble pillars with veins of soft
pink and green and gilded garlanded capitals. Life-sized gilded (yes,
again) figures of Thames and the Ocean reclining on a marble buffet are
reflected in the mirror-lined wall across the room while afternoon
sunlight streams through the row of windows and glass French doors
spanning the western wall.

Beyond, on the terrace overlooking leafy Green Park a single
gentleman in a morning coat is concluding his lunch. Soon he will cross
Green Park to Buckingham Palace where he is to be invested, we’re
told. Those about to be “sir’d” or “dame’d” frequently
precede their investment with lunch at the Ritz.

That evening we had dinner at the Ritz. The chandeliers were lit;
the hundreds of electric bulbs reflected in the mirrors like so many
points of light. From our table beside one of the French doors, we took
in the lovely room: its chairs upholstered in a velvet of dusty rose,
its great patterned carpet of salmon, pink and pale green, the starchy
linens on tables set with silver bowls of small roses and single glowing
candles in silver holders.

And there was the
irrepressible Ian Gomes, having moved to the Restaurant for the
dinner hour continuing his timeless renditions of the songs we love
best. Only here he alternated with a quartet of three strings and
piano that added a European feel to heart-tugging arrangements of
“Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” and “Yesterday” with the violin
expressively carrying the melody.

There is a new and French executive chef at the Ritz. The young
and ebullient Dominique Blais who comes from Brittany -- home to so many
master chefs -- had been at the Restaurant for only a month and was
still in the process of planning his own menu. “This is a classic menu
and I want to respect its tradition,” he said as we looked over
the list of extensive offerings. “But I want to bring to it some
cooking that is my own.”

Before assuming this position, Blais spent some months traveling
throughout France, sampling the works of some of the world’s best
chefs from Alain Ducasse in Monte Carlo to Christian Willer at the
Martinez in Cannes. “You always learn new things,” he said.

No fan of fusion cooking (“too many flavors get in the way; if
you go more than three flavors, you are going to have a clash”),
Blaise believes in the purity of French cuisine. At the same time, he
assured us, he is not stuck in “timeless tradition.”

We will have to return to try Dominique Blais’ menu. For the
moment, however, we had to content ourselves with the Restaurant’s
current offerings. We solicited the advice of affable Restaurant Manager
Simon Girling who suggested we begin with a non creamy lobster bisque
made with cognac and very lightly seared scallops with braised endives
and orange oil. For our main course, one of us had grilled salmon and
asparagus, the other sole a l’americaine with a brandy-flavored sauce
graced with a hint of vanilla and orange. The gracious and helpful
sommelier Benoit Felix proposed a 1998 Bordeaux: Saint-Emilion Grand
Cru, Clos des Menuts, an excellent choice with lovely deep color,
berry-fruit aroma, and firm finish.

Executive
Chef Dominique Blais

Sommelier Benoit Felix (left) and Restaurant Manager Simon Girling

Dessert sampler a la Ritz

The entire experience of dining at the Ritz was exemplary. The
quality of the preparations, the presentations, the attentiveness of the
staff were matched only by the exquisiteness of the environs. Out of all
the restaurants in London, the dinner celebrating the 50th
anniversary of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth had been held here.
Small wonder.

Although its standards are impeccable and immovable –
gentlemen, for example, are required to wear jackets and ties (“After
all, it’s the Ritz!” we were told) the Ritz is an exceedingly
friendly place. Every person we encountered be it server, bellman,
housekeeper, concierge, manager evinced a warmth and good humor that was
quite infectious.

Head concierge Michael De Cozar is a good example. On the scene
since 1973 and frequently photographed with a telephone receiver in each
ear and a broad smile across his face, Michael gets to know your name
immediately, welcomes you each time you enter and bids you farewell each
time you leave.

The native of Gibraltar who started his Ritz career as a
twelve-year-old page boy, moving up to being the hotel’s youngest head
concierge at age 24, specializes in fulfilling impossible requests.

“Yesterday one of
our very good clients wanted tickets for a play at a very tiny
playhouse,” he told us. “It was completely sold out. We sent a
messenger down to wait. At 25 past 2, he managed to get tickets for the
2:30 performance. Our client was in his seat in time for the curtain.

Head
Concierge Michael de Cozar

Gerrie Pitt, the engaging director of press and
public relations

"Last week a gentleman called at 7 o’clock,” he
continued. “He was running late, and he’d torn his shoelace. We always
keep laces around, but they were the round kind. He required the flat
kind. What could we do? I looked down at my shoes. The laces were flat. I
took one off and sent it up to him. That’s what we call service.”

Ask Michael about the celebrities he’s welcomed, and you’ll
get stories about Graham Greene; Rex Harrison -- “very British, a real
proper gentleman;” the Rolling Stones – “they had their breakfast
at 7 in the evening;” Margaret Thatcher; Sir William Walton, former
president Bill Clinton, Andy Warhol, Billy Joel . . . “But celebrities
here keep to themselves,” he says. “They are not here to be seen.”

In his three decades at the Ritz, Michael has witnessed nearly a
third of the hotel’s long history including the time in the early
1990’s when it was in a neglected state, its staff demoralized. In
1995, however, a change in ownership signaled a changed direction that
has since returned the property to its former glorious self.

“The Barclays are a private family,” he says of the new
owners. “Very nice people. They have put so much into the hotel. The
building can’t be altered as it is protected as a national heritage,
but everything was re-done, refurbished, brought up to date. ”

One of the first things the new owners did was lure Giles Shepard
away from the Savoy, and he, in turn, brought Ian Gomes along with him.
“The previous owners were always getting ready to sell the hotel,”
Giles Shepard told us. “And that breeds enormous uncertainty, and
uncertainty breeds discomfort. Now there’s an ownership that loves the
hotel and a staff therefore that knows its future.

“I have a lot of fun here,” he added. “I absolutely adore
it. I like the staff, I like the people, I like the building. I’m not
head of Four Seasons or Starwood. But I’m at the top of a small game.
Still it’s clear you mustn’t become like a dodo. You mustn’t
become stuck in your ways. You must stay in touch, keep up to date with
what people ask for and need.”

One could not ask for more than our beautifully proportioned
two-room corner suite (whose door opens with a real key) with views of
Piccadilly on one side and Green Park on the other, luxuriant Louis XVI
furnishings in shades of peach and pink, cream and gold, and a silver
vase filled with budding roses. But the need for twenty-first century
props is met as well. Fax, message service, and computer access are all
readily available but so discreetly installed, the Edwardian illusion
remains intact.

Still our sense of the Ritz remained locked in the 1920s and when we joined Gerrie Pitt, the
engaging director of press and public relations, for a drink at the
Rivoli Bar before we departed, all seemed right with the world.

Here the Belle Epoque
gives way to Art Deco. Five Lalique-style chandeliers hang from five
gilded domes adding to the natural light that filters from Piccadilly
through voile curtains in a Klimt design. The
original Lalique glass panels along the wall are from an Orient Express
train; the bas reliefs at each end of the room were inspired by Mestrović, the famed Yugoslav sculptor. Ocelot-covered chairs, an
onyx marble bar, and bamboo polished floor all carry out the Art Deco
motif.

MestrovićBas Relief in the Rivoli Bar

"The bar was redone in
2001 by Tessa Kennedy, a very well known interior designer in
London. The overall look evokes a train or ocean liner from the
1920’s and 30s,” Gerrie told us as we walked out to
the Grand Gallery to say goodbye to Ian Gomes.

Throughout our stay, whenever he saw us, the effervescent pianist
would break into an up-tempo version of “New York, New York.” We’d
never told him how he set the mood for our Ritz experience the day we
arrived, but somehow he must have known because now he was playing
“I’ll See You Again.”

“When you travel a lot, places can tend to blur one into
another,” Gerrie said. “But there is only one Ritz.”

About the Authors: Myrna Katz Frommer and Harvey Frommer are a wife and husband
team who successfully bridge the worlds of popular culture and traditional
scholarship. Co-authors of the critically acclaimed interactive oral histories
It Happened in the Catskills, It Happened in Brooklyn, Growing Up Jewish in
America, It Happened on Broadway, It Happened in Manhattan, It Happened in
Miami. They teach what they practice as professors at Dartmouth College.

They are also travel writers who specialize in luxury properties and fine dining
as well as cultural history and Jewish history and heritage in the United
States, Europe, and the Caribbean. More
about these authors.